The Young and the Hopeless
by dmungrrl
Summary: AU, Punk!Harry What would have happened if Lily and James had lived, but James left them when Harry was only six? Harry is strongly affected as a teenager and his friends don't help much...
1. Prologue & 1 A Day in the Life

**The Young and the Hopeless**

**By: 00cowqueen2**

**Prologue**

"James, honey, we're out of milk!" called Lily Potter to her husband. "Harry, stop eating the cookie dough!" She pulled her six-year-old son's hands out of the bowl of cookie dough and laughed at his large grin.

"Okay. I might be awhile. I have to get a few things for myself and I'll do the grocery shopping for you."

"Can you get some more diapers for Abby? We're almost out, I can't believe I forgot them the last time I was at the store."

"Of course, darling." James kissed his wife, gave his son a hug, kissed his seven-month-old baby, and, finally, his wife's pregnant stomach.

"James!" exclaimed Lily, her beautiful laugh ringing in their kitchen. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing, my dear. I'll see you later."

"Bye, Daddy!" called Harry after his father, who he wouldn't see for quite a while after that. "Mummy, when are the babies coming?"

"When are the babies coming? Whatever do you mean be that, Harry Potter?" Lily smiled at her little son and he gave her a big smile back that was missing his front teeth, top and bottom.

"When will I have my little brothers? When will they get here? I want them no-ow!"

"Harry, honey, they aren't due until December! Silly!"

Harry went quiet and helped his mother finish baking the sugar cookies for his mother's colleagues at work.

Three hours later, Harry was napping in the living room and Lily was getting worried about her husband. Who took three whole hours just to buy milk? He'd said he needed other things… what kinds of things? Lily could only wonder. Perhaps he was getting them a coffee maker, but she couldn't think of why he would get such a thing.

As she started cooking dinner for two (if James wasn't there by then, he wouldn't be for dinner), Lily felt a pang in her stomach. And then another and another. She grabbed the phone and punched in a number as fast as she could.

"Hello," said a deep, male voice on the other end of the telephone.

"S-Sirius, it's… it's Lily. I-I need you to-to come over to our house, quickly, and take me to the hospital. I'm having the babies and James is… he's out."

"Why isn't he home? That freaking idiot, he should be at home with you, Harry and Abby. Where is he?"

"Yeah, I know all that, but… erm, he's doing something important, so please, hurry over, please, please."

"I'll be there in five minutes time, don't worry about it."

"Thanks so, so, so much." Lily hung up the phone and went as fast as she could up the stairs to her bedroom. She grabbed a few pairs of clothes and other things essential for more than a day-long stay.

After finishing with her bag, she ran down into the living room and shook her son awake.

"Harry, honey, wake up," she said, shaking him again, more vigorously this time. "Harry, Mummy's having the babies, we have to go to the hospital.

"Is it December already! My brothers are coming, is it Christmas?" Harry asked in an eager, excited tone of voice.

"No, honey, it's still September fifteenth. The babies decided to come early. Sirius is coming to take us to the hospital. Get some books to read and things to do. I have to get Abby ready and Sirius should be here any minute now." Lily stood up, groaned, and hurried over to her baby daughter's bedroom, then scurried round and round it, getting a diaper bag prepared for her and Abby herself into a baby carrier.

"Lily!" called Sirius Black from the front hall. "I here! The car's out front! Where's Harry?"

Lily could hear her six-year-old saying, "Right here, Sirius! Look at my books, they've got pretty pictures!"

"Coming, Sirius!" Lily ran down the staircase with two bags in her right hand and a baby carrier in her left. "Harry, put you things in this bag and give it to Sirius, would you?"

"Here, Sirius," said Harry, handing his godfather the diaper bag and a great big grin. "Mummy is having my little brothers!"

"What if she has a girl? Or two little girls? What then?" asked Sirius, kneeling down to Harry's eye-level and smiling.

"She would still have one boy, because she is having three babies." He held up three little fingers to demonstrate this fact. "As long as I have one brother."

"Quite opinionated, that one," said Sirius, standing up and taking Harry into his arms. "He's exactly like you, Lily."

"Yes, well, if you don't get me to a hospital this instant, I will not only be opinionated but a murderer as well."

"Then let's get going."

Elizabeth, Jane, and James Potter were born at 2:12 AM on September 16th at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Of course, within a week, they would be known by all of their family as Elizabeth, Jane, and Jamie Evans.

"Sirius, why isn't my daddy here? _Shouldn't_ he be here? Will he be here soon? It shouldn't take such a long time to buy milk for Mummy, should it? Is he back at _my_ house in Godric's Hollow? Or, maybe, could he be at _your_ house?"

Sirius rubbed his temples and picked up small Harry, plopping him down on his lap.

"I don't know where your dad is, Harry. I really don't. I'm… I'm not sure your dad will be returning."

"W-why not?" Harry's normally happy face fell. "Did I d-do s-something w-w-wrong?"

"No, Harry. You did nothing wrong. Your dad did something very, very terrible though."

"What did he do, Sirius? My dad isn't bad. He's really nice!" Harry said this loudly, to prove to his godfather that his dad wasn't a bad person. So loudly that half of the waiting room turned their heads and glared at the small, raven-haired boy sitting on the lap of a strange man.

"You mum will tell you what he did, Harry. But, for the time being, your mum and you will be staying with me, at my house, because Elizabeth, Jane and Jamie are going to have to stay here in the hospital for awhile."

"Do I have a brother?"

"Yeah, you do. He's named Jamie."

"Can I see Mummy now?"

"Well, I think so. If it's okay with the doctors."

It was and Sirius took Harry in to see his mother.

"Mummy, why isn't Daddy here?" was the first thing Harry asked Lily.

Harry's mother looked at him with blood-shot eyes and a tear-stained face.

"Come here, sweetie," Lily answered. Harry climbed up onto the hospital bed. "Y-your dad… he's not coming back, Harry. He… he left us. It's just you, me, and the babies now."

"Why? Is it my fault? Did I do something to make him leave? It's my fault, isn't it?" Harry looked up at his mum, sad and scared.

"No! Of course not! Your father… he just… I-I guess that your daddy just didn't want to be in the family anymore."

Harry's bright green eyes filled with tears and his nose run.

"I d-d-don't want Daddy to leave! Make him come back, Mummy, make him come back! Why did he leave?" he cried, putting his face in his mother's shoulder and getting snot on her hospital gown. Lily didn't notice. She just wrapped her arms around her oldest son and hugged him tightly.

"I can't, Harry. And I don't want your father to leave, either. And I don't know why he did. I'm sorry, honey. I'm so, so sorry."

**One**

**A Day in the Life**

"Up! Come on, Harry! It's after six!"

Harry groaned under his pillow. _Don't make me get up… just let me sleep until school gets back in session, won't you?_ he begged his mother mentally.

"Yeah… just five minutes… just ten more minutes… thanks so much."

"Young man, you are fifteen years old. It is six-thirty and you have things you need to be doing. Get up, now."

"Mu-um," he moaned. "Ten more minutes? Please?"

Lily slapped her son upside the head and he tried to slap her back, unsuccessfully. He lay there with his head under his pillow, waving his arm back and forth in a fruitless effort to get her back.

"Be down in fifteen minutes, nothing more. Or else I'll send _them _up."

"Oh, Mum, don't let Abby sit on me again."

"Well, the girl was hungry. You can hardly blame her. You're going to end up _missing _breakfast one of these days."

Fifteen minutes later, Harry's sister came bounding upstairs in a huff, whining, "Har-ry! Get up! Get up! Get up, get up, get up!" She shook him with a final, "_Get up!"_

Getting no reaction, she thought, _Drastic measures for drastic times!_ With that, she climbed on top of her brother's back.

"God, Abby, what do you _want_?"

"I _want _to eat breakfast, you moron, but Mum and Aunt Petunia say that we can't eat until _you _get your big butt downstairs!"

"Get _off _me, Abby."

"No, I really don't feel like it." Abby moved up onto her brother's ribcage and punched him on the nape of his neck.

"What the fu- _hell_ are you doing? Get the hell off me!" Harry pushed Abby off him and she landed on both feet on the floor.

"Ow!"

"That's right, ow. Now I'm going to have bruises all over me. You'll never get a boyfriend, you know, because all the boys will be afraid of you. Throw me a shirt."

Abby put on a disgusted expression and tossed a shirt at Harry.

"It's clean, stupid, but thanks anyway."

"Shove off. Could you hurry up and get downstairs so we can eat?"

"Bye, Mum. See you later, Jamie."

"Harry, before you go, what time will you be getting home?" Lily asked, stopping her eldest child before he walked out the door. "I'm making a big dinner for you tonight. Ron, Hermione, you're welcome to join us, too, if you'd like."

"Expect me at six," Harry replied. Turning to his friends, he added, "You should really come. Mum's cooking is great."

"Well, fifteen. You're practically a dinosaur. Count me in," said Ron. "Your cooking is even better than _my _mum's, Ms. Evans."

"You flatter me, Ronald. Hermione? Will _you _be gracing us with your presence this evening?"

"I'd love to come, _Mrs. _Evans," Hermione answered in her smart-ass way. "I wouldn't miss it for anything."

"Er… it's _miss_… but I'll see you this evening. Have a nice day, you three!"

"See you, Mum."

Once they were in the Weasleys' flying Ford Anglia, Ron said to Harry, "God, mate, you look awful."

"I _feel _awful," Harry replied, rubbing his purpling neck.

"What on earth _happened? _Did Dudley give you a lucky birthday beating?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I woke up late this morning. Delayed breakfast for everyone except Vernon, who had work."

"Abby," said his friends together.

"Did she-"

"Yep."

"And-"

"Yeah."

"How many bruises now?"

"Sixteen. And those are just from the start of the holidays."

"Well, Harry, what was with your mum this morning? With that '_it's miss' _shit?" said Hermione, moving onto her daily bemoaning of her horrible life.

"It is _miss, _though, Hermione. She's not married anymore, you know, since my dad…"

"Croaked? Kicked the bucket? Bit the big one?" suggested Ron.

"E-exactly. She changed her last name, as well as mine, and my siblings'."

"I see," said Ron. "You know, I always wonder about one thing: _why _would you rather spend your Saturdays during the holidays in that mad-house with your dorky brother rather than _us?_ Your _friends_?"

"What's your guys' problem? Jamie's my only brother and he's a cool kid, besides. Anyway, why should I bother going to the cinema with you when I'd be the only one actually paying attention to the film? You two would be too busy snogging. So you'd pick the movie- usually a bad one, mind you- and I'd be stuck watching it while you are otherwise occupied."

"Jamie is eight years old. What's cool about that?" demanded Hermione.

"You know, I didn't actually ask your opinion. And it's my birthday, not gang-up-on-Harry-because-he-enjoys-hanging-with-his-brother-he-never-sees day. So shut-up." Harry crossed his arms and glared out his window, angry that the one day his friends weren't supposed to be able to be asses to him, they were anyway.

"Sorry," muttered Ron.

"Apologies," Hermione added.

"Not accepted," Harry finished.

"I've been waiting and saving for this since I was thirteen," Harry sighed as he and his two friends waited in front of the counter of a music store near his home.

"Here you are," said the cashier, holding out the case.

"Thanks," said Harry, picking it up by the handle and walking outside to sit on the bench outside the store.

"So?" Ron said, sitting on Harry's right. "Let's see it, then."

"C'mon, Harry!" Hermione snapped, sitting on his other side. "Hurry up!"

"Shut it, Granger."

Harry opened the case gingerly and stared in wonder at the electric guitar that was lying inside. He didn't really know _why _but since he was eleven, he'd felt extremely passionate about rock music and playing it. It helped that his best friend, Draco Malfoy, also was a fan of the style. Another contributing factor was the fact that he'd asked his mother what his father had thought of the genre; she said he didn't approve of it. This just made Harry want to play it more.

_Finally_, after two years of waiting, he and Draco could _really _start that rock band that they'd been dreaming about since they'd started at Hogwarts. They would be the next Weird Sisters- minus the freaky face paint and leather pants.

"A _guitar_? You've been saving since you were thirteen to buy a _guitar?_" drawled Hermione.

"Hermione, do you have any idea how much this cost?"

"No."

Harry shoved the receipt under her nose. She didn't even blink.

"I could buy that with one month's worth of allowance," she muttered, not meeting his eyes.

"Well, I don't _get _an allowance, Hermione. I had to _work _for the money I used to pay for this. So, again, shut-up." Harry was quiet for a few seconds and then added, "Besides, my dad would have hated it."

"God, what _is _it with you and this resentment of your dad, Harry?" Hermione snapped, annoyed by her friend's day's worth of sulking.

"Hermione, leave him along. It's his birthday," Ron berated her in an irritated voice.

"_You_ shut up, Ronald."

"_I _wasn't the one being a bitch to him on his birthday."

"Well, you're just an all-around jack-ass, so no one would notice, would they?"

"Right back at you-"

"Shut it, both of you!" Harry shouted. "Could you not fight for one day? Jesus."

Having finally had enough, Harry pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up.

"You're disgusting," Hermione muttered as the smoke wafted in front of their faces.

Harry scuffed along the sidewalk, arriving finally at number 4. When he walked in, he saw the mail lying on the doormat. He picked it up, flipping through, not expecting anything for himself.

He was pleasantly surprised, finding a letter addressed to him in his best friend's familiar curly handwriting. _At least _one _of my friends cares that it's my birthday_, he thought with a small smile.

"Mum! I'm home!" he called, walking down the entryway towards the kitchen.

"Harry! Be quiet!" Lily said when he came into the kitchen, depositing the remainder of the mail, all for his aunt and uncle, on the counter. "Jamie and Jane are sleeping! Hush!"

"Sorry, Mum."

Lilly sniffed the air and demanded, "Give me your jacket. Come on, hand it over. Now."

Harry slowly pulled off his old, tattered jacket and reluctantly handed it to his mother.

Lily held it up to her nose and then fished around in the pockets, finding exactly what she was looking for.

"Harry James Evans. How many times do I have to tell you this, young man! No smoking, or than guitar you _expertly _hid in the garage will be history." Harry could only stare at his mother, bewildered. He had put that guitar in there _hours _ago, when he was _sure _no one was looking. He'd put it in a place that no one would find it; how did she know?

"Yes, I saw you sneaking it in. I can only wonder where you got the money to pay for such a thing. I shudder at some of my ideas."

"Mum! I made the money for that myself. Do you really think I'd _steal _it?"

Lily shook her head, obviously not sure _what _to think.

"I don't know if I should believe you."

"Ooo, _busted!" _said Abby from the door to the kitchen.

"Abby, your room! Now!" shouted Lily. "I am loosing patience with this family! Harry! Answer me! Now!" Harry's green eyes were wide with surprise. He'd never seen his mother like this.

"Mum, I would _not _steal a guitar! I'm not that stupid. I wouldn't steal the _money _to _buy _a guitar, either. You know that."

With an exasperated sigh, Lily thrust Harry's jacket at him and said, still angry, "Go put this in the wash." Pocketing the cigarettes, Lily turned her back on Harry. This was his cue to get the hell out of that kitchen.

"What did you _do, _Evans?" drawled Dudley as Harry passed him on his way to the laundry room.

"Shut-up, Dudley."

"So? How was your birthday, Harry?" Lily asked as Harry took a seat on the couch in the living room.

"It would have been great, had my friends _bothered _to show up for dinner. My only friend who actually _cares _about me lives to far away for me to see him during the holidays," said Harry coldly.

"Something must have come up, dear," said Lily, taking a seat beside her son and putting an arm around him.

"Oh, something they couldn't have told me about this morning? Or this afternoon? Yeah, that's likely."

"What do you want to do tonight? We can do something, just you and me." He didn't have the chance to answer her, as the phone rang a moment later.

Petunia stuck her head into the living room and said, "Lily, phone for you."

"Okay," replied Lily. "We'll finish this when I get back. I won't be long," she said to Harry. Lily stood and took the cordless phone from her sister's hand and said, "Hello?"

As he waited, Harry stared at his hands, pulling up one of his sleeves and staring at the tattoo he'd gotten last Christmas. His mother always wondered why, since then, he'd only worn long-sleeved shirts. But if she found out… the combination of _that_, the smoking, and the rock band would _really _cause her to kick him out of the house.

And then what would he do? He would have to find some other place to stay. Not the Weasleys', either, because Molly would know that Lily had a good reason for kicking Harry out. She'd probably even _know _the reason, courtesy of Lily herself. Molly wasn't one to approve of tattoos, even though it was likely Bill had one… but then, Bill was Bill. He was an exception to every rule.

As much as he'd like to stay with the Malfoys, were there a time it was necessary, Draco was the only member of that family that could stand Harry. Sirius had a flat in London, a convenient bachelor pad, just big enough for one. There really was no where he could go…

Finally, he glanced at the watch he'd gotten last year for his birthday, to see how long Lily had been on the phone. It had been almost a half-hour…

She finally came back into the sitting room and said, in a choked voice, "Harry. Harry, phone. Take it up to your room."

"Are you okay?" he asked as he took the phone from his mother. She hadn't cried in a long time and there was only one thing she ever cried about- his father.

"Yes, just take the phone upstairs." Harry nodded, taking the cordless phone and walking upstairs before holding it up to his ear.

"Hello?" he said, closing his bedroom door and sitting on his bed, unsure of what to expect.

"Hi, Harry!" The man on the opposite end was making an effort to sound cheerful.

"What the hell do _you _want?" Harry demanded, his voice like ice. There was silence for a few seconds and Harry stuck his finger in a hole in his bedspread.

"I called to tell you happy birthday. Fifteen, huh? Your mum hated me when we were your age." Harry rolled his eyes, thinking, _She doesn't feel too differently now._

"Gee, I wonder why," he muttered. He didn't know how he used to worship this person- this horrible person, scared of commitment, willing to abandon his family to feel a little freedom.

"How's Abby?" asked James.

"She's doing better. She likes to sit on me when I don't get up in the morning, but fine."

"That's funny."

"Not really, but I put up with it. You know, because of the cancer."

"Your mum told me about that."

"You sound _so _concerned."

There was silence on the other end again, until finally he asked, "How are the triplets?"

"You mean Elizabeth, Jane, and Jamie?" Harry found I appalling that this man didn't even know the names of three of his children.

"Yes. How are they?"

"Well, Jamie and I both hate you. Jane and Elizabeth, when they're feeling really vicious, like to help Abby gang up on me." Harry heard his father chuckle a bit but he himself found nothing funny about being sat on by three pre-adolescents on a daily basis.

"So, what's Jamie like? Why doesn't she help Abby and Jane and Elizabeth?"

"Well, _he _actually enjoys my company. He looks like Mum, you know, ginger hair and brown eyes."

"Like his dad, huh?"

Harry was getting extremely bored with this conversation. First his father didn't even know the names of the triplets and then he thought Jamie was a girl.

The more he thought about it, about this call, this stupid, out of the blue call on his _birthday_, from his estranged father, gone for almost ten years, the angrier Harry got. How could he think that he could make one call and everything would be okay again? How could that work? _How? _

"Harry?"

"I hate you."

The young man his the 'Off' button and threw the phone down on his bed.

"Harry, dear, can I come in?" came his mother's voice from outside the door. "Harry?"

"Yes, Mum."

"How'd it go?"

"He thought Jamie was a girl."

"Oh… what else did you tell him?"

"That I hate him." Harry looked away. He didn't want to see Lily's expression at this statement.

"Harry! Why in the world did you do that!"

"Because it's true," Harry said, his voice finally cracking. A lump was growing in his throat. Lily wrapped her arms around him.

Sighing, she said, "It's okay for you to cry about it, Harry. There's nothing wrong with that. But some things… some things, you just keep to yourself, you understand." Harry nodded to tell her that he did understand.

"Mum!" Jamie's voice came from outside the door. He banged on it and shouted again, "Mum! Jane and Elizabeth are trying to eat the rest of Harry's cake!"

"Mum, can I have some? I'm older, I should get more!" screamed Abby through the door.

"No! Neither you, nor your sisters can have any more! You all had your helping!" called Lily.

"Mum! Jamie and Abby shouldn't get any more at all for tattling!" shouted Elizabeth.

"Yeah!" added Jane.

"All four of you, go down to the living room this instant! I will be down in a minute!" Pushing Harry away from her, Lily looked him square in the eye and asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine… I just can't stand him."

"Harry, you have to calm down. Abby will hold this over your head till the day you die, you know. So clean up and then you can come and watch me tame the beasts."

Smiling weakly, Harry said, "Yeah, okay. I'll be down in five minutes."

"How did you like the movie, Harry?" Lily asked as she and all five of her children left the theatre. Abby answered before Harry could take a breath.

"There was a boy and a girl kissing three rows below us. Weren't they your friends, Harry? Weren't they?"

"Yeah, Abby, they were. I guess they did have something better to do tonight. Sit in a dark theatre and snog through an entire film. I guess it's better than going to their dorky friend's birthday party."

"Harry, don't say that. You know that's not true," Lily reminded him.

"It sure as hell is this year. Why are my friends so horrible?"

"Your friends aren't horrible."

"Yes, they are. They lie and they like _each other _and they like _kissing _each other more than their half-orphaned friend, and would rather do that than spend the night with _him_, even on his birthday."

"You are _not _half-orphaned," Lily insisted.

"Yes, I am. And those two morons and Dad collaborated to make this the worst day of my life. I wouldn't be surprised if Satan was in on it, too."

Harry began walking faster than the rest of his family and when he reached the car, slammed his door as hard as he could, proceeding to glare out the front window.

"Harry! Come on, it's _my turn _to sit in front! Harry!" shouted Abby. Harry, however, ignored her. She hadn't just had the worst birthday of her life. But he sure as hell had.


	2. 2 Riot Girl

Two

Riot Girl

Thankfully, the rest of the summer holidays went by quickly. Harry was thankful for this, as he would be able to his best friend again when he got back to school- the only one of his friends who had bothered to send him well wishes and get him a gift.

Draco was happy to see him as well, and even happier to hear of his friend's summer investment.

"Finally! We'd best start recruiting other members now, shouldn't we? Make a demo… and get famous!"

"Yeah… good luck with that. We have to find someone who matches our skills, you know."

Draco sighed dejectedly. "Yeah. We're just so good, I don't know if we'll ever get _anyone _that measures up."

"It'll just take time is what I mean."

"Yeah. I suppose it will."

The boys had spent all their spare time since the start of school looking to find a drummer- all they needed to have a _real _group.

It was December already and they had yet to find someone adequate. Both were silent, staring into their oatmeal in disappointment.

"Today already sucks," groaned Draco. "Shitty breakfast, shitty drummers and shitty Gryffindors vying for your attention. Why the bloody hell are you still friends with those two anyhow? They don't treat you near as well as me."

Puzzled by his best friend's last comment, Harry looked up and saw the meaning of it. Hermione was standing over a the Gryffindor table, waving spastically trying to get his attention.

Since his birthday, he had had to struggle not to strangle his friends' whenever he saw them. So far, he was doing well, but he wasn't sure how much longer this would last.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted. "Harry, come here!"

"No," Harry said clearly so she would know exactly what he said, even though she couldn't hear him.

"Why not! I have a present for you!"

"Don't go, mate," advised Draco. "It's a trap!"

Heaving a sigh, Harry pushed himself up and said to Draco, "Wish me luck."

"It's a trap."

When he finally got to the Gryffindor table, Harry glared at Hermione and said, "What do you want?"

"To give you your Christmas present!"

"Are you kidding me? This couldn't wait until _Christmas_?"

Ignoring his condescending tone, Hermione exclaimed, "Happy Christmas!"

"Thanks," he said flatly, starting to walk away.

"_Harry! _I have to _see _you open it!"

_She is so exhausting, _Harry thought as he turned back around. _Draco was right; this _is _a trap._

Opening the envelope, Harry found the following letter:

Dear Harry,

Happy almost holidays! I have the most amazing present for you: a trip to San Diego… for _two whole weeks! _We'll stay with my cousins in their _amazing _home on the coast. You'll love it, it's the perfect thing to take your mind off school. You don't have to think about your siblings or the stupid friend of yours for the entire trip!

Love and kisses,

Hermione

"Hermione, as… heartfelt as this gift is," Harry lied, "I really can't. I mean, for one, I can't afford it. And two, my mum would never let me go to another country for Christmas."

He began to shove the envelope back at Hermione but she stopped him. "Harry, there's more in there."

He looked in the envelope. There was a plane ticket next to the crumpled letter he had stuffed in.

"Gee. Thanks." This too, of course, was a lie, as Harry wanted to spend the holidays with his 'siblings and that stupid friend of his'. Because, as annoying as his sisters were, he loved them and loved spending time with them when he could, since he was at school nine months out of the year. He knew they didn't care that he was in Slytherin, or what kind of underwear he wore (boxers), or that he enjoyed rock and roll, or that he had five tattoos, or even that he was best friends with Draco Malfoy, who Ron and Hermione felt was the spawn of Satan.

All these things bothered Ron and Hermione. Especially Hermione and the underwear debacle. But his siblings, and even Draco himself, didn't care about any of those things. Draco, at least, understood that Harry loved his sisters, no matter how annoying they were, and that he loved his brother, even when he came and cried to Harry at night, because he knew exactly what his namesake had done and when and he just wanted to know why. But that was something even Lily didn't know.

"You're sure this is okay?" Harry asked his mother as he stepped out onto the dirt road to his friend's house. He couldn't even see Hermione's house through the trees

When his mother had whole-heartedly agreed to let him go to San Diego, Harry had been astonished and had begrudgingly agreed to go- despite protests from Draco and his siblings. Contrary to expectations, Lily was actually _pushing _for him to go, as she considered this a peace offering from Harry's friends- asking forgiveness for their social gaffe on his birthday.

"Yes. I am very, very sure. Have a wonderful holiday, Harry and be sure to call." Lily kissed her son's forehead.

"Give Jamie a hug for me. Abby, Liz, and Jane, too. Tell them I'll miss them… 'cause I will." Harry shifted his guitar to his other hand and hugged his mother. He may have given off a scary front, but, more than anything, even his music, he cared about his mother and siblings the most.

"I will, I promise. Have a lovely time and get to know Hermione's cousins… maybe make some new friends."

"Mum… are you proposing that I get off with one of my friend's relations?" Harry didn't even smile at his own joke.

"Not get off, exactly. Get to know. Have a good time. Now, don't use any magic… I don't want to get a letter like the one I got last year over the holidays that night you spent at Ron's."

"I promise I'll make an effort. And I won't make that mistake again, I swear." Hugging his mother, Harry waved goodbye and began walking up the dirt driveway to Hermione's house.

When he reached it, he could hardly stand it, it was so big.

Harry rang the bell and rocked from the front of his feet to the back as he waited for someone to answer. While he waited, he stared at the porch light. It wasn't on, but interesting all the same. He was just starting to decipher the designs when the door opened.

"Hey, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Oh, hi. Nice house," Harry said, gesturing to the three story house his friend called home.

"Thanks. Come in." She held the door open for him to come in. She smiled, but grimaced when he plopped his dirty, tattered old duffel bag alongside Ron's school trunk on the immaculate wood floor. He lay his guitar case on top of his bag and walked into the sitting room to find Ron seated on the couch.

"Harry!" he exclaimed. "Look at her huge veletision! It's almost three feet wide!"

"Wow." This didn't impress Harry as much as Hermione had obviously hoped it would, but he was surprised. The Dursleys had a large television, but not that big.

"So, Harry, do you want anything to drink, eat?" asked Hermione. Harry ignored her question and went to join Ron on the couch.

"Harry? Soda? Chips?" she asked again.

"No. I ate before I came." This wasn't exactly a lie, as Harry _had _eaten one of the brownies his mother had made before he'd left, but technically wasn't the truth either. Even so, he wasn't hungry, he was just tired.

"Oh, okay. More for Ron and me."

Harry was silent. Leaning back into the plush cushions of the couch, he removed his glasses and stuffed them in the pocket of his jacket.

"Anything wrong, mate?" Ron asked.

"No. I'm just tired."

"Yeah, we should all get some sleep before we go," said Hermione, handing Ron a glass and taking a seat in a chair. "I think I'll go take a nap."

"Me too," added Ron.

As they were headed down the stairs, Harry called, "Don't forget your condoms."

"He is such an idiot," Hermione muttered. Harry heard his so-called best friend murmur in agreement.

Harry untied his shoes, so old they had holes worn in the toes, and placed them by the lamp stand. Then, placing his head on a pillow and stretching out on the couch, he drifted to sleep.

It was almost midnight and Harry was settling into his seat by the window on the airplane. Hermione and Ron were talking- undoubtedly about him- across the aisle.

Harry pulled out the book he had hidden in his guitar case (as it was in German and he would be made fun of mercilessly by Ron and Hermione were they to know he had taught himself the language over his twelfth summer) and opened it, starting to read.

As he was dyslexic, his doctor said that learning another language could possibly help with his reading skills. It had, in fact, actually helped him to learn German, though he still had a lot of trouble with his mother tongue.

The flight attendants were walking up and down the aisles, checking on everyone, making sure carry-ons were tucked under the seat in front of the passengers or put in the over head bins, and offering everyone pillows and blankets. Despite his nap that afternoon, Harry was still exhausted and gladly took the blanket and pillow when it was offered to him. Deciding he was too tired to read, he put his book away and closed his eyes, settling in for the flight and falling to sleep before take-off.

Harry rubbed his eyes as he stared out the taxi windows at the cloudy winter sky of La Jolla, California.

"Hey, Harry, wake-up," said Hermione, flicking him on the knee.

"I'm awake."

"We're here," she sighed. "So, you'll have to carry your luggage. Come on!"

"Fine, fine," Harry moaned. He popped open the door to the cab and pulled himself out, retrieving his duffel bag and guitar case from the trunk.

Hermione was already at the front door, ringing the doorbell to the large, coastal house.

"Harry, be a darling and get my bags, would you?" _Be a darling? _Harry was thinking. _I would so rather not. Over my dead body. _

"Harry! Please?"

"Okay, Hermione," said Harry, very pissed off. He grabbed his friend's two large suitcases, as well as his own baggage, and lugged them up to the front door of 974 West Beach Coast Drive.

"Thanks, Harry, darling." That darling thing again. Hermione was becoming more and more creepy by the second.

Hermione rang the bell again and began to tap her foot impatiently. Finally, she banged on the door.

A tall young man, seventeen or eighteen years old, opened the door. His spiky black hair was beached on top and his face hinted Asian heritage.

"Hey, Hormone. How ya been?"

Hermione turned bright red and looked at the boy angrily.

"Aaron, how many times do I have to tell you _not to call me that!"_

"Just once more, Hormone." Aaron looked away from Hermione to Harry and Ron. "Hi. I'm Aaron McEvoy. Nice to meet you."

"Harry Evans. You too."

"I'm Ron Weasley," said Ron, shaking Aaron's hand.

"So, you're Hermione's boyfriend?" Aaron asked Harry. The latter's eyes practically popped out of his head.

"No way," Harry assured him. "Talk to _him _about that." He pointed a finger in Ron's direction.

"Oh. Well, come on in."

"Aaron!" called a girl from the stairwell. "Aaron, who's- oh, crap." The girl reached the top of the stairs. She had Aaron's face, but copper hair.

"Hi," she said, embarrassed. "Um, I'll be leaving now." She started to turn around when Hermione started squealing.

"_Anastasia_!" she screeched. "It's been such a _loooong_ time!" Harry could tell Hermione was trying to make Ron forget about the 'Hormone' thing.

"Chill out, Hermione, it's only been, like, four months," said the girl called Anastasia. Then she walked past Hermione to Harry and Ron.

"I'm Anna. Please ignore my cousin and never call me Anastasia." Harry nodded. He noticed Ron staring at an area blow Anna's shoulders but above her belly button where she happened to be quite well-endowed.

"My eyes are up here, buddy," she said, snapping his chin up to look at her face.

"Need I remind you that you have a girlfriend?" Harry added.

"You man-whore," laughed Anna. Dropping the smile, she added, "My father has a gun, so you better not let him catch you staring at my breasts."

"Gun? Man-whore?" said Ron, puzzled.

"Neither of those things are good, Ron, trust me," said Harry, patting Ron on the back.

"He's like Kelso on _That 70's Show_," muttered Anna. "Completely indecent."

"He's not always this…" Harry looked for a good word to describe how Ron was acting, "horny."


	3. 3 Party Up & 4 The Christmas Tree

Three

Party Up

That night, Harry didn't get to bed until ten-thirty. He may have been comfortable, but he was dwelling on Anna's response to most of what he'd told her.

She'd mostly said, "Oh my God." She was like a broken record. Harry thought this was really annoying, but couldn't help what others did. Besides, she was pretty nice to him- and it helped that she was beautiful, too.

Harry was caught between hate and love with her. He had no idea why, but he was strangely drawn to her. He always heard girls talking about 'the One' and it sort of made sense. Was this the feeling you felt when you met your One? Could Hermione's cousin really be his One?

Glancing at the clock, Harry said it was 11:59 P.M. His eyelids were becoming heavy. Sleep was upon him…

Harry trudged up the stairs. He hadn't looked at the clock, so he didn't know what time it was, but it appeared that everyone else was up if the voices he heard upstairs were any indication.

"Morning, Harry," said Hermione. "I expect you had a good night's sleep?"

"Good night's sleep. Right. I still feel like I'm going to fall over."

"He's never been overseas before," Hermione explained to her cousins. "He's still got jet lag, doesn't know how to get over it."

Harry sighed and took a seat in one of the reclining chairs in front of the television.

"What time did you go to sleep last night, Harry?" asked Anna.

"About midnight."

"Are you serious? You were asleep for ten hours!"

"Ten hours? That's crazy. I haven't slept that much in nine or ten years."

"Are you kidding me?" Anna looked flabbergasted. "That's forever."

He ignored this. Harry could sleep for all of the Christmas holidays and he would still be tired. He'd been tired his entire life.

"Harry?" said Hermione. "Harry, are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Good, because Anna's got a great schedule planned for us today."

Harry shuddered. He couldn't _wait _until he found out what this "great" schedule was…

Harry didn't get the answer to his questions until six that evening, when Hermione barged into his room and shouted, "Harry! Get dressed! In something… attractive! Come on, hurry up! Let's go!"

"What the hell are you talking about, Hermione? Get the hell outta my face, I'm kind of doing something!" Harry yelled back, certain that she was going to barge in at any second and stuffing his notebook under his pillow.

Right on cue, Hermione banged in and when she saw Harry, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"What? You've never seen a guy without his shirt on before? I find that hard to believe."

"Of course I've seen a guy without his shirt on. What are _those?"_

She pointed to his bare chest. Harry looked down.

"This? Well, you know. Will quidditch, and everything-"

"I know about your _chest _you idiot, I'm talking about _those."_

Harry realized she meant his tattoos.

"Your mum can't approve! Your mum would never approve!"

"Chill out Hermione. Mum'll find out… eventually…"

"As in _never? _Harry, have you got any clothing besides hoodies and baggy jeans? Because if you don't, I'll get Aaron to lend you some clothes. He's got some really sexy stuff, nice shirts and jeans."

"I do have boxers-"

_"Harry!"_

"Sorry. But, yes, I have hoodies, jeans and underwear. But I can still wear my own clothes, can't I?"

"No!" Hermione screamed. "No, no, no! You can't wear hoodies and baggy jeans _clubbing_!"

"Clubbing? _Clubbing! _You're taking me _clubbing? _Hell no!"

Harry turned tail and walked into Anna's bathroom, slamming the white door behind him.

"Harry? Harry, please come out!" Hermione knocked on the door.

"Hermione, you've known me for five years. You know there is no way in hell I will go clubbing."

"Harry! Quite being an arse and get out here! You need a girlfriend and there will be plenty of girls at the club that will be willing! Please!"

Harry opened the door.

"Fine. Once. Just once and if any sleazy American girls try to bed me, I'll deck 'em."

"Fine, Harry. I give you permission to pummel any sleazy American s that start hanging off you. Because there will be a lot of them."

"Oh, thanks Hermione. That's really reassuring."

An hour later, Harry was sitting in the backseat of the McEvoy's Land Rover with Anna, Hermione, Ron and Aaron, wearing a pair of tight jeans and a t-shirt that Aaron had lent him. He stared glumly out the window. The sky was grey and his window was blurry with raindrops.

"Harry, please cheer up," Hermione whispered. "You're ruining the holds for everyone, come on!"

"These jeans are hugging my ass."

"That's the point."

"I have to say, I prefer my own jeans, thank you very much. This is all your fault. Girls will be staring at my ass all night and it's all your fault."

"You're welcome."

Harry didn't answer her.

"This is going to be the best night your life, wait and see," said Hermione, just as Harry was thinking, _This is going to be the worst night of my life, wait and see._

Harry couldn't say who was right the next morning, him or Hermione. What he _did _know what that he was still in Aaron's ass-hugging pants and clingy t-shirt.

His head ached and his stomach hurt and he recalled several trips to the bathroom in the wee hours of the morning.

His father had come home like this more than once. Harry couldn't help remembering the ordeals when he saw his reflection in the mirror. He looked just like James had- extremely messy hair, pasty skin, bloodshot eyes… how could Harry forget?

There were two things he _did _remember about the past night: that at about eleven, he and Anna had gone off to make out in a dark corner; and that Anna made a scene that ended up getting them kicked out of the club. That had happened at one that morning.

It had definitely been quite a night.

Harry shook his head, his wavy bangs covering his green eyes, and he slowly proceeding to the bathroom, peeling off Aaron's shirt as he went.

To his utmost horror, when he opened the door, Anna was getting out of the shower. Even more to his horror, she had yet to wrap a towel around herself. She screamed and grabbed one off the shelf, wrapping it around herself.

Harry snapped around and covered his eyes, saying, "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I'm so, so, so, so sorry!"

"Harry! What are you doing in my bathroom!"

"You said I could sleep in your room! Any normal person would assume that also implies free usage of the bathroom!"

"I was showering!"

"The door was unlocked! What did you expect me to do, knock!"

"Kind of!"

"Anna, are you an imbecile? Good god!"

"Well, I guess we're kind of even, since you aren't wearing a shirt-"

"Not even, Anna. I saw you completely naked, the only way we'd be even is if I showed you my dick!"

"Then start stripping."

"Shut-up! It's not fun! Jesus."

Coming up behind Harry, Anna wrapped her arms around him and rubbed his chest.

"The best thing for a hangover is a hot shower Harry. Why do you think I was taking one?"

"Do you have a guest bathroom, Anna?"

"Yeah…"

"_Then why couldn't you have used that one!" _

"I like this one better. And, you know, when it's a sexy guy like _you _that sees me naked, it's really okay."

Harry pulled away from her, shaking his head.

"You're nuts."

"Man, you're really pathetic. Can I kiss you?" Harry turned to face Anna.

"What do those two things have to do with one another?"

"In my mind, quite a lot. Now, can I kiss you? Come on."

"No."

Anna narrowed her eyes and to Harry's utmost surprise, kissed him anyhow. Then she jumped up and walked out of her room.

"What the hell is wrong with American girls?"

That question would bother Harry all day.

Four

The Christmas Tree

So much happened between that day and Christmas that Harry and Anna were almost never alone together. Harry didn't know whether to be extremely happy or extremely sad about this.

During this time, Hermione was unusually nice to Harry. He was extremely surprised and a little freaked out by this, as it was extremely out of character for her.

It was Christmas Eve day and when Harry arose, he found the house deserted.

That is, until he was getting dressed.

He was just pulling up his comfortable, baggy jeans when the door to Anna's bedroom- currently his- was flung open.

"Shit!" he shouted, hastening to pull up his pants all the way and his zipper. However, he only ended up tangled in a mess of sheets and comforters.

"What the hell do you think you're _doing!"_ he shouted, buttoning his pants and standing up to face Anna and Hermione in horrified wonderment.

"Hurry up and get dressed, slow-poke," said Hermione with a smile. "We've got a big day ahead of us!"

"I'd ask what we're doing, but I'm too afraid of what the answer will be."

"We're going to buy a Christmas tree, silly," Anna said, giving him a little push on his chest. "Dress warm, it's absolutely _pouring _out."

Harry walked over to the curtain and pulled it back to see that Anna spoke the truth. You couldn't even see the beach, barely a hundred yards away, through the downpour.

"Hermione, grab me a black hoodie, would you?"

She approached his trunk and stopped. "They're all black."

Clenching his fist, Harry continued, "The one with the sign on it."

After a few moments, she said, "There are three."

Rolling his eyes and giving and exasperated sigh, he muttered, "Why do you have to make this so fucking difficult?"

"Well, which one!"

Turning around he pointed to the one lying right on top and said, "_That _one."

"What about a shirt?"

"A black one." Not wanting to go through the entire ordeal again, he added, "_Any _black one."

Hermione tossed the bundle of black at her friend.

"Thanks much," said Harry, separating the t-shirt and the sweatshirt.

"Anytime," she replied, walking over to his and giving him a kiss- and _not _on the cheek, either. Harry turned a violent shade of red.

"What, Harry, never been kissed before?"

Harry replied by avoiding her eyes.

"Come along Anna. We'll see you upstairs, Harry, darling."

"Darling?" Harry muttered as the girls left his room. "What the bloody hell?"

It was six o'clock by the time they got home with the Christmas tree. Without stopping to help put the tree up (as she felt this was a job for the men), Anna headed straight to the telephone, pressing a button on the speed-dial.

She had been talking for about fifteen minutes, Ron, Harry and Aaron done putting up the tree, when she shouted, "Aaron! Blair wants to talk to you!"

Aaron was sitting on the couch in front of the TV and groaned. Getting up to take the phone, he said, "What do you have to tell me that is so important you had to drag me away from my football game?"

Upon hearing the word _football, _Harry got off his stool at the marble wet bar and went over to the couch to watch. He wasn't really one for sport, but there were two they he did enjoy- football and Quidditch.

However, it was only after he had sat down that he remembered- American football was different from British football. He really didn't see the point in the game, but then, everything seemed asinine in comparison to wizard sport.

Deciding it would be pointless to return to the wet bar, Harry stayed where he was and watched. What else did he have to do?

Ordering in pizza, the five people watched the game and ate. Harry's eyelids were getting heavy and he finally said, "You know, I think I'm going to head to bed. See everyone in the morning."

"Bed!" exclaimed Hermione. "Harry, you can't go to bed yet. It's not even ten o'clock."

"Hermione," he objected, "I am about to fall over. If I don't go down and get in bed, I'll fall asleep right here. So, for once in your life, let me do what _I _want to do."

He stood and as he was going down the stairs, he saw Anna raise her eyebrows and mouth something at Hermione when she thought Harry wasn't looking. He sensed that there might be something going on between the girls and he didn't like the feeling it gave him.

"Harry?" He heard the door creak open slowly. "Harry, are you awake?"

Harry grunted.

"I am now."

Harry's face was pressed into his pillow. He was lying on his stomach, in his boxers, and had red marks from the creases in the sheets and pillow sham on his limbs and face.

Turning over, he couldn't tell if the girl at the door was Anna or Hermione. Their hair texture was similar and they had similar-sounding voices- except Anna spoke with an American accent. In the dark room where the only light source was from behind the figure, it was impossible to tell.

"Oh, I woke you up! I'm so sorry!"

It was Anna. _Great. _

She sauntered up to his bed and smiling in a way that was supposed to look shy, seeing as all Harry was wearing was his underwear. Despite her intentions, she _didn't_ look shy.

"You have a teenage brother, seeing a guy in his underwear shouldn't embarrass you," Harry said in a drowsy but harsh tone. He didn't sound nearly as menacing as he would have liked. _Damn you, jetlag!_ he cursed in his head.

"You have quite a lot of tattoos," Anna said sheepishly.

"These aren't all of them, Einstein."

"Oh? Where are the rest?" Crawling up on the bed, Anna got extremely close to his face and whispered, "Could you show me?"

"No," he snapped. They were both silent for a few seconds.

"Harry…" Anna cupped his cheek in her hand and looked him in the eye. Her unearthly orange eyes were glowing eerily.

Becoming suddenly very aware of the situation, Harry became extremely uncomfortable and self-conscious. But Anna wasn't stopping if she sensed his tension. She ran her hands up his chest and began massaging his shoulders. This did the trick.

Anna leaned forward and started kissing Harry, getting no reaction from him. After a few seconds, he loosened up and began kissing her back. She paused for breath and went back to kissing him, but this time there was tongue.

Anna began pulling her shirt off. When she was done, Harry took it and threw it across the room, where it hit the closed door. Then she started pulling off her skirt and pulled the sheet up over them.

Harry had his boxers off when there was a knock at the door.

"Anna, are you in there?" The voice was deep and gruff and came from someone who Harry was positive would kick his ass in a fair fight.

He pushed Anna away from him and took in a sharp breath. Was this Anna's father?

Anna, who still had her underwear on, quickly found her bra and multiple other articles of clothing and began getting dressed.

"Harry!" Anna hissed. "Get your damn boxers on, you shit-head!"

Harry glared at Anna- he did get his boxers on, then he pulled the sweet smelling sheets over his head.

"What the hell were you doing in there Anna? I thought one of Hermione's little boyfriends was staying in there."

"We were just talking, Dad. It's fine."

_Dammit, _he thought. _I knew it. I **knew** it. She was just pretending to nice so she could hit the sack with me later. I can't believe I fell for that act! Now she's seen me naked. I guess we're even. _


	4. 5 The Girls' Secret

**A/N: I know this chapter's really short... I originally paired it with chapter six, but that one's not typed, so I'll upload that separately as soon as I type it up. Sorry that this one is so short!**

**Five**

**The Girls' Secret**

Harry didn't speak to Anna on Christmas Day. He didn't speak to her on Boxing Day or any day following. Every time she tried to talk to him, Harry ignored her. She eventually made an effort to turn the tables and began freezing _him_ out.

There were two days before Hermione, Ron and Harry were due to depart. With their departure so near, Anna gave up ignoring Harry and returned to trying to get him to talk to her.

Harry was laying on the bed, his eyes closed, thinking. Hearing a knock on the door, he absentmindedly called, "Come on in." His voice was dazed.

"Oh, thank _God, _you're talking to me again!" Anna exclaimed, pleased, as she walked into her bedroom. She gazed at Harry contentedly. He sat up, putting the old notebook that had been laying on his chest under the pillow behind him.

When he realized the identity of his visitor, he groaned and muttered, "Bloody _fantastic_, it's her."

"Harry… I want to apologize."

"Do you _know_ what you're apologizing for?"

Anna developed a blank look across her features.

"You don't remember what you did."

"I don't remember doing anything _really_ objectionable lately… at least, not to you."

Anna watched Harry, bewildered, as he looked up with a sarcastic smile.

"Of course you don't, because you're the princess and I'm the pauper, right?"

"Huh?"

"You just going around and sleep with whomever you please without a second thought, I presume? And your father just lets you, because he doesn't know."

"You're really confusing me, Harry."

"You knew that I'm a virgin, didn't you? About to have sex with me because I'm the poor little British boy with the poor family and no father? I don't think that's a favor, Anna!"

She blushed a violent shade of red.

"Okay, so it was pretty damn obvious you'd never done it but I thought you'd appreciate it!"

"Appreciate it? I want to wait and do it with someone I love who loves me back! Of course, it is quite clear to me that you do not return my affections. So, I beg of you. _Get out_.

Anna looked more surprised that Harry had ever seen her.

"You… love me?"

"It's not _obvious_ to you? I'd obvious I've never had sex, but it's _not _obvious that I'm completely infatuated by you?"

"Well… yes. That would appear to be so."

"I do recall asking you to leave. Now _go."_

Later that afternoon, Harry was getting up to get a drink from the kitchen when he overheard a conversation between Anna and Hermione in the front room to the garage.

"Come _on_ Hermione! I won."

"Anna, I never thought we'd go through with this. Especially because, in retrospect, this is probably the most bitchy thing I've done in my entire life. And I've done some pretty bitchy things in my time."

"You prude. What_ever_, you still have to pay me."

Harry could just imagine Hermione's face as she said, "This is just so unfair to Harry. I mean, after you told me what really happened with his dad… I can see why he lied. And morals aside, you didn't even _have_ sex with him.

"He may have gotten mad about what I did, but I still got farther with him than you did. _You owe me_."

_Oh, sympathy _and _a lack or morals. What a combination._ Harry pondered this for a moment until something else occurred to him. They'd had a bet. Hermione and Anna had had a _bet _on who could bed him first. Unbelievable.

Hermione's voice showed her genuine remorse. She was sorry for what she'd done and she was sorry for what had happened with his father. His asshole father.

Harry thought that, maybe, with time, He could forgive Hermione. They'd been through a lot together.

But Anna. Anna, who had pretended to really care about him to get him in bed. Anna, who he had somehow fallen hard for since he'd been in San Diego. And all that for a bet.


End file.
